


A Song of Blood & Tenderness

by LittleGames



Series: A Song of Blood & Tenderness [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Medieval Medicine, a night to remember, medical measures, this starts slow, warning for further description of extreme violence, warning for violence and blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 03:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleGames/pseuds/LittleGames
Summary: Apparentely Blood & Wine afforded another romance opportunity for Geralt: The vampire Regis.After an outstanding night on the cemetery Mère Lachaise-Lounge, the witcher asked the vampire to stay with him at Corvo Bianco.All went well, till Geralt carried out a threat, he once uttered to a certain bruxa. This story takes place after the "A Night to Remember"-Trailer of the Witcher 3.





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt was physically exhausted. He laid on the floor, heavily breathing. His head was spinning, so he closed his eyes to stay conscious. The witcher had many hazardous contracts, but this one had almost reached to his very end. 

It was a personal contract after all. Occasionally he took a pass on the money and focused on his moral grounds. He slept till morning. Turning his head to the left, he saw, that the dead body beside him was fully carbonised, a disgusting smell drained through the witcher’s nostrils. 

Geralt propped himself up on his elbow. He carefully put his feet on the floor and with the last bit his strength managed to stand up. The witcher careened, because the pain in his body was disastrous. He wanted to scream, but oppressed it, instead he put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. 

He had many reliable companions, but Roach never let him down. The chestnut mare arrived in a split of a second and bent down, so the witcher could mount her more easily. It was a long way home.

He finally reached Corvo Bianco. Blood ran down his throat as he collapsed on the stairs, leading to the main door of his house. The last thing he caught a glimpse of, was the silhouette of a delicate man, who bolted towards him. Then everything went black. 

He woke up in a tub. His body was numb, he barely felt anything from his head down. Geralt did his very best to keep his eyes open, but the warm water and the smell of herbs made it impossible. As he was finally able to stay conscious, the witcher discovered the person he mostly desired to see:

Regis stood next to a table in the spare room. He was holding a book with one hand, the other rested at his chin. He was thinking – as most of the time. Regis didn’t wear his bag, neither his leather apron or his gloves. He already seemed comfortable in his new surroundings, which didn’t appear to be a miracle. 

Anything was better than that old mattress, lying on the floor of the crypt at Mére Lachaise-Lounge. The elder man’s senses reacted instantly, as Geralt formed his mouth to something, that might have been a smile. 

“Considering your condition, I will abstain to preach you a sermon. I’ve warned you about that contract and I worried sick”. The witcher furrowed a bit, as Regis did exactly, what he wanted to avoid. The vampire walked towards the tub and felt Geralt’s forehead. He then leaned forward to the right to get a fresh cloth. The witcher enjoyed that movement and spotted a chance. 

He ran his hand over the vampire’s backside, up his back. The elder man turned around in a rapid speed: “You cannot be serious! Following your appetite like an animal. As I’ve already said, I worried sick and managed to keep you alive through my fast reacting and my knowledge and you think about sex?”

“Just wanted to cheer you up a little.” Geralt let his hand slit off the vampire’s back and took it back into the tub. He felt miserable. Watching the mixture of peppermint leaves, valerian and arnica blossoms flowing in the bathtub made the white-haired man dizzy again. He leaned the back of his head against the rim of the tub. 

Regis dampened the cloth and placed it on Geralt’s forehead. It felt cold and the rest of the water dripped down his face. The vampire tried to wipe away the drops of water, but the witcher held his hand to his scarred cheek and closed his eyes. He felt a rush of cosiness, which seemed to energise him. Being with his old friend in an exciting new way - a way where they needn’t to hide anymore, a way, where they could enjoy each minute - made the witcher forget the pain for a few moments. The vampire furrowed his brow. 

He still felt a tiny bit of anger, but seeing the white-haired man in absolute sorrow broke his heart. He let his mind wander but an intense twitch through Geralt’s body brought him back to reality. The elder man reacted instantly. He put a clove of garlic into the witcher’s mouth and made him swallow it. 

“Garlic attenuates blood and keeps it clean,” Regis repeated the words as he progressed. He then spurted to the shelf, where he kept his potions and grabbed an ampule with a mixture of burr, elder, nettle, dandelion, hyssop and sarsaparilla. “Human blood can be polluted by various circumstances, such as bad evacuation of toxics through inoperative excretory organs like kidneys, liver or bowel – as well as malnutrition and of course the saliva of a vampire.” The immortal had to open the mouth of the witcher widely to administer the medicine.

The symptoms got worse. The Witcher began to shake hazardously, his heartbeat increased and on his skin grew a vastly number of pustules. Even if this made the vampire burst inside and he regarded the scene with horror, he had to let the witcher in his misery. The potion aggravated the symptoms in the worst possible way, but Regis knew, that this was the only way to help his friend – his lover. His hand slid into the tub – the water had turned cold. 

He took the caldron from the stove, waited a second and poured the warm water in the tub. Geralt’s body relaxed slowly. He sat on the chair, which stood next to the tub and starred at his old friend in a moment of silence. The immortal thought about the times, he was dependent on someone’s help. 

Dettlaff regenerated him through his own blood, he cared for him with a lot of patience and made him feel special. They both could’ve been happy, if there hasn’t been Syanna. Thinking about her made Regis slightly extending his claws, but he kept his composure – as always. She made Dettlaff lose his mind, after he killed her. Regis tried to find him everywhere, but if a higher vampire didn’t want to be found, he couldn’t be found. Not dead - but lost. 

And now his heart has turned towards Geralt, a witcher, a slayer of monsters, whose job was to kill creatures like him. A man, who was mutated against his will to risk his life every day. The vampire knew, that he wouldn’t stay at his side for too long as well. Why should he deserve to be happy? A lot of humans believed in a connection between deeds and consequences. And Regis began to believe in it, too.

“Head kills me – make it stop.” Regis startled. That was then, that might be, but this is now. The vampire looked at Geralt. He wasn’t cramped anymore, but a headache must have been plaquing the younger male and he felt, that a fever had occurred. The vampire didn’t want to take such a radical measure, but there was no way to avoid it. “Phlebotomy - The removal of blood from a vein, usually with a needle and syringe or other container, for diagnostic or therapeutic purposes, as in the treatment of hemochromatosis – taken from the thump, it mitigates headaches and the worst kinds of fever.” He grabbed his bag, which leaned against the leg of the table and reached for a syringe.

“I don’t want to do this.” He trembled slightly as he inserted the metallic needle into Geralt’s thump. After all these years, he still couldn’t cope with his addiction. The witcher’s blood wouldn’t taste well, but a small amount would be enough to satisfy the craving. He brought the tip of the needle towards his mouth, stick out his tongue, ready to enjoy the drop of warm blood. Suddenly the syringe was whipped out of his hand. The witcher seemed to brace himself to do so. “You were gutted about me and now this.” There was a peeved undertone in Geralt’s voice. 

The vampire looked down at his feet. “Don’t get me wrong Regis, not that I blame you, but I want to care for you, like you care for me.” The white-haired man tried to smile as heartily as he could. “Now help me get out of this tub, I’m waterlogged.” 

Regis took a large towel from the settee, held it in front of him and turned his head towards the book shelves in the corner. Geralt smirked “Couldn’t avert your eyes from it the last time and now you turn around?” “Geralt, I’m not really hellbent on talking about this highly sensitive issue.” The tip of his pointy ears began to turn red, which was a sign for absolute embarrassment. The witcher took the towel out of his hands, still smirking.


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt wrapped the towel around his hip, still grinning at the vampire, who had turned around to get a little tin filled with thick ointment. The witcher tucked the ends of the towel together and was pleasantly surprised as Regis came very close, taking a fingertip full of the paste and started to carefully rub it into the fresh wounds - Geralt could detect yarrow, chamomile, marigold, and thyme. 

The elder man barely touched him, but after a second on the open skin, the ointment began to burn heavily. The white-haired man distorted his mouth: “Ah, I hope it helps – burns tremendously and smells like an old man, who earns an herb shop.” Regis looked at him, raising one brow: “So, like me?” It took Geralt a while to realise, what he had just said: “Sorry, my head’s still spinning, didn’t want to be mean. I really like your odour – especially your natural one. The one I smell, when we are close and undressed…” 

The vampire didn’t say anything, he was fully focused on treating the witcher’s wounds. Geralt observed him, he couldn’t avoid his eyes from the tiny bit of naked skin and soft grey hair. From the marks of sadness and life-event stress showing in his face. No, these didn’t make him ugly, they enhanced his beauty – they were the result of the self-sacrifice for him, for Ciri and Yennefer…

His eyes wandered over the cold and elegant fingers, being as gently as the man himself. His slender figure. Geralt’s mind went back to the night at the cemetery. Oh, this night – verily a night to remember. All those terrible occurrences of the past months and they all ended with them being together: bare skin touching, passionate kisses, Geralt feeling the inner warmth of the vampire; he wanted to re-experience that fervent love-making, non-comparable to anything he had before. He could finally be himself. But the witcher had done something, that made Regis turn away from him and they had to talk about that as soon as possible.

A loud growl coming from the centre of his abdomen pulled him back into reality. Regis was already cleaning his hands in a small basin made of wood, his sensitive hearing made him look at Geralt right away: “My, my. You haven’t had something to eat for almost a day.” Geralt just nodded, he was starving indeed. Regis handed him a pre-warmed robe and helped the white-haired man dress. Now he was the one who took a deeper look on the other. He always had a thing for scars…. Geralt’s body was near to perfection, the right amount of muscles in combination with his clear-cut profile and those golden shining eyes. 

His heart began to beat faster and before he did something, he would regret right afterwards, he harked back to Geralt’s stomach rumble: “I guess your lovely cook has already prepared an ample choice of delicious food.” “Mhm, from what I smell, yes. Hope you’ll join me.” “Yes, squire! I haven’t eaten in days and besides that, I can take care of your condition, my friend.” 

Friend?…Did we make a step back?

Regis put his arm around Geralt’s waist to support him, while they went down the stairs into the main hall with the bountiful table. The witcher just made the last step off the stair as Marlene and Barnabas-Basil appeared seemingly out of nowhere: “Master Geralt, is everything okay? Do you need anything? Marlene, hurry up – get him a soft pillow to sit on it and a blanket for over his shoulders” The old woman ran off before Geralt could even say something. 

“Very fond of you both, much obliged,” was Regis immediate reaction as Marlene came back with the pillow and the blanket. Geralt made a loud growl, as he was placed onto the chair like a little child: “I’m injured, but I can move on my own, thanks.” The three made a step back, looking at the grumpy witcher, who moved himself into the right position. Regis just smiled at Marlene and Barnabas: “Thank you ever so much. May I ask you to leave and enjoy the rest of the evening?” The two servants made a slight bow, before they left the building. 

Geralt cocked his head to look at Regis, his neck was still hurting: “Why did you send them away, what if I need them at night?” The elder man finally sat down beside the witcher: “Because you are exceedingly moody and shouldn’t speak with them like this. Yes, they are your servants, but that doesn’t allow you to speak with them disrespectfully. Moreover, there is nothing I can’t do for you, except for cooking and I assume you won’t eat this whole food in one night. So, I would like you to relax.” 

The white-haired man knew, that the other was right, but a tension inside of him wanted to start an argument: “You’re prickly, Regis – because I killed that old friend of yours?” “Ah that’s the snag! No Geralt, I must disappoint you. Me and Orianna were never romantically involved, if that is, what you are curious for. I’ve promised you to tell you the story and now we have time.” “Please,” Geralt just snorted, took a piece of bread, and dunk it into his soup. 

“I’ve met her around the same time, I’ve met Dettlaff. She became part of my clique, because she liked to get drunk as much as I did. When the others already gave up, she was only just getting warmed up. I’ve rarely seen her with men or women – she always said, that her narcissism disallowed her to open herself up to anyone else. I was a dear friend for her, but nothing more.

Orianna knew, that I always had a thing for men, that I tried to hide my true nature. She was one of the few people, who was aware of my sexual preferences. At times, she provided me with lads - well you know, we had some drops of blood and then, I disappeared with them in the alcoves… We had lost contact for centuries after our toothing years.

As we all met that night at the Mandragora, I was certain, that you will find out about her vampiric nature and might kill her. And as you told me at the dock, that the rumours about the orphanage were true, it was beyond doubt, that you will kill her. It wasn’t a contract for purely mercenary reasons, it was one based on your moral grounds. But now you should consider, that her children are without guardianship, they will be treated even more badly than what she did with them. Ah, I fear the whole story is a dilemma that couldn’t be solubilized in any way. Bruxae and Alps are not capable of losing their lust for blood, in contrast to us higher vampires. That’s why they can’t be called true higher vampires. Yes, I know. I still must deal with my addiction, as you witnessed earlier that evening. But this is extraordinary. There are some true female higher vampires out there, but these are extremely rarely.” 

Geralt kept eating silently, he listened carefully to Regis’ explanation and he was right: no one would care about the children now. Thoughts were running crazy, but then an idea came into his mind: “I suggest a plan: First I will support the owner financially and then I’ll find someone, who cares for the children lovingly – maybe Marlene?” 

The vampire had a glint in the eyes: “Nobody should ever call you a heartless monster again. You have too big a heart.” He smiled at the witcher tenderly, for the first time in three days. His right hand covered the witcher’s left and the ring from their homeland directly caught his attention: “As we are already talking about old friends – didn’t tell me the truth about that mysterious humanist, haven’t you?” The fond smile on Regis’ thin lips developed into an even more loving one: “Indeed. But this is a story for another, calmer night.” 

Geralt nodded and all he felt was the warmth, crawling up from his hand up his arm and into his heart. He could tell from Regis’ smile, that this humanist has been more than a friend for him – way more. He loved to see Regis happy and the vampire made Geralt happier himself. Another thing that made him happy, was seeing Regis biting into a sweet bun: “Never thought you have a sweet tooth, bloodsucker.” “I’m full of surprises, monster slayer”, he elder man chuckled. 

“Now we are calling us awkward nicknames? A few moments ago, you called me friend again.” “Geralt, we still need to talk about that topic in depth, but not today – you are still stricken. And I want to find the right words: Don’t take this the wrong way, I…I want to be with you, but we must take it slow – we started off, ah, the wrong way.” 

Geralt was eating the whole time, that was one of his ways to cope with unpleasant topics: “It’s okay, Regis. But we really have to speak about that.” The vampire nodded and Geralt looked deep into those onyx eyes: “Don’t want to ask though, but… where should I sleep tonight then?” 

The question educed a smile from Regis: “It’s your estate, Geralt. You of course sleep in your big bed. It’s your decision, where I sleep tonight though.” “All I want, is to feel you beside me. I will dream badly tonight, because of the toxic that’s still in my body. Would you do me the favour and sleep in my bed with me? Won’t touch you anywhere inappropriate, I swear.”

“How could I reject this ever-so-lovely spoken favour? Can you get up by yourself or do you require my help?” Geralt leaned onto the table to get up by himself. The elder man put his firm hands on the witcher’s middle, supporting him. “Back to the bedroom,” Geralt dead-paned, holding one arm barely up in the air. “You always had a great sense of humour, Geralt. Please stay as you are.”   
…  
“Slower please, ah, Regis.” The vampire took special trouble to lay Geralt down onto the sheets: “I’m sorry, but you are pretty heavy, my friend.” The witcher cut a look at Regis: “Stop the friend-thing! And I’m not fat!” “That was not, what I meant, Geralt. Of course, you’re not. I would kill for that type of body.” A little shudder went through the witcher’s body: “Mind your language, Regis. Sometimes I’m not sure if you’re joking or not.”   
“Geralt, dear. I would never harm a hair on your head. Especially not, when it’s hair as soft as yours.” He let one white strand run through his slim fingers. 

“Wanna join me in here, so you could play with my hair some more?” “Phh, Geralt,” Regis snorted. “A little bit of cuddling won’t kill our relationship or? Come over – and don’t even try to put on a sleepsuit.” 

“How do you even know that I own something like this?” Regis pulled down his black trousers and started to unbutton his garment, which distracted Geralt to the fullest. 

As there hadn’t been an answer after a minute, Regis began to button up the garment again. “Hey, that’s not fair,” the white-haired man raised protest from down on the sheets. “Please avert your eyes, when I get fully undressed, Geralt.” “Seen you naked before and I could bet roach, that you will keep on your underwear.” “I certainly will.” The vampire let the garment off his shoulders and crawled onto the bed. He laid down next to Geralt, who immediately spooned him and pulled him closer. 

Regis couldn’t help but relax and enjoy the firm hug, strong arms being wrapped around his chest. The witcher’s hip next to his behind, his lips nibbling at the sensitive skin of his neck. A shiver went down his spine, he would have loved to make more out of the current situation but he had to restrain: “Do you need some laudanum to alleviate the pain during the night?” 

Geralt continued inhaling Regis’ scent, placing little kisses behind his ear: “No need for that, as long as I’m permitted to keep smelling you.” “Just a few minutes more, wolf. A snatch of sleep will do wonders for us both, I wish you wonderful dreams.” “Sleep well and don’t be mad at me, okay.” Regis leaned backward and pressed a kiss onto the witcher’s forehead: “Don’t worry, I won’t, but get well soon.”   
…  
Geralt dreamed some incoherent things that night: He was hiking with Zoltan and Dandelion in Mahakam and right after they had reached the summit of a mountain, Zoltan whipped a huge bottle of Mahakaman Spirit out of his bag and they got shitfaced - nothing far from what had happened before…

They talked about old times, made men jokes and then, the drunken bard grabbed his lute - but before he started singing, Geralt woke up. The bite wound on his neck tingled displeasingly, he held his hand over it to ease the pain. To his surprise Regis slept on. He must be overly exhausted, even a vampire needs sleep from time to time. But damn, he looks cute. 

Geralt watched him sleep for some while and took a pull from the bottle of laudanum. The witcher had already grown overly attached to the immortal, he began to even like his snoring. In a strange way, it calmed him; maybe because he could be certain, that Regis slept well. The bags under the vampire’s eyes showed, that he was desperately in need of good sleep in a warm and luxuriant bed. After he drank half the bottle of laudanum, Geralt snuggled up against Regis again. The decent smell of herbs brought the white wolf back to sleep fast.  
…  
He found himself at the outer edge of Novigrad, in a camp of jugglers and actors. Fast music, the wine flew freely, people were making out with each other behind trees. It was a boisterous party. And in the middle of all those happy people, Geralt found one familiar face – Ciri. As she saw him she squeaked and ran into his arms: “I’m so happy you came here, dad!” “Glad to see you, too daughter. Now let us get some wine and enjoy the party.” The green-eyed girl smiled at him widely and they both had some glasses of cherry cordial and Ciri came up with an unusual idea: “Come on, let’s try juggling!” 

The witcher sighted, but nobody could keep him off from joining. Ciri ran forward and took a yellow, a red and a blue ball out of a basket. Geralt did the same thing and they both had great fun trying to keep the balls up in the air. Ciri was better than Geralt; she was on the road for a while, met a lot of interesting people and learned a good number of tricks. The witcher wasn’t as good as her, but he was all smiles. The witcheress distracted the old man by cheeky poking her tongue out.

One of the balls fall onto the grass and Geralt bent over to pick it up again. As he straightened himself, he was back at Corvo Bianco. He had picked up some herbs from his garden and instead of the ball, he held a bundle of sage in his hand. He missed his Ciri dearly.

Dreams can be odd sometimes… 

He frantically tried to remember, what brought him into his garden. Regis – of course. The vampire was in Geralt’s laboratory down the wine cellar of Corvo Bianco. Maybe he might enjoy a little visit; bet he hadn’t have a break yet.

He went over the blooming fields and juicy vineyards of his estate, watched the birds flying over his head up in the vivid blue sky. He didn’t smell guts and blood, just the warmth of summer and the scent of flowers. He was wearing his plain white shirt and black trousers; there was no need to carry his swords with him – no one would hurt him here. He made his way to the laboratory and adjusted himself, before he entered the stony path downstairs. 

It was a hot day indeed, but he didn’t expect to see his vampire fully undressed, working on some deep blue potion. The athanor was boiling and the herbs above it where flowing due to the rising steam. Geralt came closer and hugged the immortal from behind, placing a kiss on his shoulder: “It’s boiling in here, but vampires aren’t bothered by that – so why in the buff Regis?”

“Because I knew, that you would pay me a visit – and not only to bring me the herbs I need.” He looked at the witcher seductively. Geralt ran his hands over Regis’ sides, warm hands touching cold skin; He started kissing up his neck, which made the vampire’s flesh crawl. 

“Mhm, you’re right. But first you must tell me, what kind of potion that is.” “One to enhance your reflexes to the point that time would appear slowed to you. But you will appear faster to everyone else.” The elder man let go of the flask in his hand and turned towards the witcher, who nodded out of fascination. 

“But enough of that, it needs to brew for three to four hours on its own.” “Plenty of time for round one, little bloodsucker.” Geralt picked Regis up and sat him down on the working station, grapping his behind tightly. Regis placed his hands on the witcher’s shoulders, pulling him close. Geralt pulled lightly on the vampire’s hair, biting his neck to get him into a state of burning desire. 

Vampires are such simple creatures…

Passionate kisses, scratches and sounds of arousal - and a few moments later Geralt was more than willing to feel Regis’ inner heat but then… “Wait Geralt, a glass of wine and then you can do with me whatever you desire.”  
Those sweet words…

Geralt let the immortal slit off the table and he gave him one more kiss, before Regis left the room to seek for a bottle of “White Wolf” in the main wine cellar. Geralt brushed his hair back with his hands, stretched his muscles and rummaged in the repertoire of potions, Regis already made.

He wanted to feel his vampire, kiss him all over, make sweet love with him – experiment like none of his former lovers would have. But it wasn’t just the sex – Geralt had never felt something like this - the heat in his chest whenever he looked at the vampire. …Oh, how he adored him. Yes, he had loved before, but this was something different.

The witcher couldn’t wait any longer - he wanted to be with him, feel him, love him and so he went to look for Regis. 

As Geralt entered the main wine cellar, he couldn’t sense the vampire. “Regis? Reeggis?” No answer. “It’s not fair to play hide and seek with me – can’t sense you!” He searched behind the barrels, the wine racks, but Regis was gone.   
“Regis, please. Enough of that! It was fun, but now show yourself!” No answer. The white-haired man sighted deeply and shook his head. He just wanted to leave, as something dropped down on his nose. He slowly looked up and winced by what he saw. 

A cage was hanging from the ceiling – the one from Tesham Mutna. That cage. A bloodcurdling sight met his eyes: Regis was slit open, from his head down. His spine and the eyes were obtained. He didn’t breathe, no sign of a possible regeneration. Not even with the blood of another higher vampire. 

He was gone – forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still struggling with myself, if it was a good idea to post it here, but well - some people talked me into posting it here, so maybe you might like it as well.
> 
> The chapters will appear at least once a month and will also be posted on Tumblr (little---games)


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